Before he makes a phone call or checks the e-mail, before he aims the remote control, clicking onscreen The Morning News where Hollywood glitz and overnight disasters are spliced between commercial breaks—before any of these, he steps outdoors to greet the new day. As usual, the ridges are cloaked in mist.

Somewhere in the distance, a cow calls to her calf.

Dogs bark. Dogs are always barking.

There is just enough chill to make him grateful the furnace works.

Looking out, he half believes what passes for landscape isn’t landscape at all but sculpture extending all the way to the river and beyond. That half-belief lasts for a little while, or until the growing daylight erases the early morning blues.